


All Things Unsaid

by Chicory



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Water Spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8186953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicory/pseuds/Chicory
Summary: Merlin falls into a lake. Arthur takes care of him in his prattish, endearing ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It has been almost two years since I actually finished anything and when I finally do what did I write? This. Even though this drabble sucks, I'm still glad I wrote something. This is obviously an AU but I don't know for what season.
> 
> Oh yeah.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: not mine. Also, unbetaed.

Arthur supposed it was his fault.

His father had impressed to him from a young age that as a prince, as the future _king_ , he would be responsible for his subjects' well-being because surely he didn't think they could be responsible for themselves?

Arthur had been sceptical in his formative years, but then he'd met Merlin and he'd observed Merlin, and soon he'd realised the wisdom in his father's words. He only regretted that Uther hadn't impressed to him how to be responsible for apparently suicidal manservants who had the unfortunate habit of tripping over their own feet or a speck of air.

Merlin was a graceless idiot. Arthur should have kept this in mind and not let him wander off alone. But the damage was already done and Arthur had no words when Merlin trudged back to him looking for all the world like a drenched scarecrow.

It seemed he'd managed to find the only lake in these mountains and had evidently thought it a splendid idea to trip himself into it.

"You were supposed to gather firewood," Arthur said while Merlin trembled and dripped water all over their campsite. _Without_ the firewood. "Not take a dip in the lake."

"It's not like I did it on purpose," Merlin grumbled but his teeth chattered too hard for Arthur to catch his words properly. He was barely coherent on _good days_ ; Arthur considered this a definite regression. It was fortunate that he knew Merlin so well and could by now more or less guess what he was saying in any given situation.

Arthur snorted, and tossed Merlin a blanket from the saddlebag. Merlin caught it in surprise and then stood still, holding it uselessly. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, take them off then," he said, and Merlin gave him a wide-eyed, scandalised look as if Arthur had just declared his intentions to ravish him. He truly was moronic; Arthur wouldn't do it outside in the cold. He made an impatient, imperious gesture with his hand and then folded his arms. "Don't be shy, Merlin. It's not like you're some virginal maiden. Get on with it."

With obvious reluctance—movements stiff from the cold—Merlin began to strip out of his wet clothes. He made a face as he struggled out of his shirt, dropping it to the ground in a sad drowned heap. Then he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, hopping for balance. Arthur supposed the socks had benefited from his unexpected bath because Merlin hardly took care of _Arthur's_ laundry—as was his _duty_ as Arthur's manservant even though he pretended not to know—and he didn't want to think how seldom he took care of his own laundry. He gave the socks a dubious glance, somewhat expecting them to walk off.

Merlin draped the blanket around his shoulders, sniffing, and then shimmied off his trousers. He stopped undressing, and shifted on his feet awkwardly. For a moment Arthur stared at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Merlin asked, the very picture of clueless.

" _All_ of it, Merlin," Arthur said with a touch of impatience.

Merlin scrambled back a step. "No, no, I'm not going to prance around butt-naked outside. I took off enough already."

Arthur took a menacing step closer. "I'm not going to have you fall into hypothermia just because you refused to take off your damned underwear. Now stop acting like I just ordered you to expose yourself to the whole castle."

Which, Arthur thought in that moment, could be hilarious. But he wasn't that cruel; the women would faint from such a sight.

When Merlin made no move to undress himself, Arthur lunged for him; Merlin tried to evade but he'd always been rubbish at basic coordination, let alone combat, and Arthur had him flat on his back in two seconds. He struggled and squirmed like a fish on the block, squawking in protest because the idiot obviously didn't know what was good for him, and Arthur had his underwear halfway down his legs when he suddenly stopped.

Merlin stared up at him with wide eyes, panting, cheeks flushed and mouth parted. Arthur realised if anyone else were there to see them the whole situation would look highly suspicious and quite possibly criminal. Then he shrugged it off, and tore the underwear rest of the way down.

Arthur stood up. "And there you go. It wasn't so hard, now was it," he said, tossed the underwear somewhere in the pile of needles, and went off to gather firewood because Merlin was incapable of fulfilling even the simplest of tasks.

Arthur didn't know why he took Merlin to places. He was prone to whining, getting lost and being too loud like a stampeding boar, and he quite clearly wasn't made for the wilds even though he'd grown up in the countryside. It seemed the only outdoor skill he had was kindling the fire; somehow he managed to do it in seconds and Arthur had long since wondered what the trick behind it was.

Merlin was sitting on a mossy log, huddled in the blanket, when Arthur returned with a pile of firewood. He looked too pale in the faint sunlight, almost white like snow, and he still trembled in rigid jolts. He glanced at Arthur, frowned, and then deliberately turned his head away. Arthur supposed he was in a sulk again.

"Don't act like I defiled your virtue, Merlin," Arthur said as he squatted down to make the fire. "I was only thinking of you. You should be honoured; not many lords would go so far for their servants."

"I'm thrilled, sire," Merlin said, his tone making it clear that he was anything but.

"Life is all about experiencing new things," Arthur pointed out, pleasantly.

"I'd like to see you strutting about naked outside," said Merlin.

Arthur smirked at him over his shoulder, and Merlin went red when he realised the obvious implications of his words. It was somehow satisfying. Arthur chose not to think too much about it. "That wouldn't be proper, Merlin. The women would throw themselves at me and the men would riot."

Merlin rolled his eyes in that insolent manner of his, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. He tugged at the blanket to further hide any exposed skin, distracting Arthur. He dug his toes into the earth, the blanket fluttering around his slim legs, hair curling moist around his ears. Forcibly Arthur turned his gaze away, cleared his throat, and focused on the campfire.

The sparks from the flint caught on the dry leaves, and soon the fire blazed in sputtering crackles. Arthur moved to sit beside Merlin on the log, their shoulders and thighs brushing. Merlin peeked at Arthur from behind strands of black hair, and Arthur ignored the curious flip in his belly.

"Well, are you going to tell me what happened?"

The flames flickered across the angles of Merlin's face, and Arthur could clearly see the hesitation in the minute shift of his expression. "There was a water spirit. In the lake," Merlin said at length as if measuring his words. "I didn't notice it, but apparently it wanted to play with me."

"Oh," said Arthur and thought water spirits evidently had horrible tastes in men. "You should be more vigilant," he added because he knew Merlin and Merlin—in addition to tripping over his own feet—had a habit of having his head in the clouds.

Merlin blinked. His eyes were wide in the gloom, dark like the depths of sea. "That's... it?"

Arthur stopped poking the fire, and pondered what else he could possibly want from him. He clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're all right," he said, because it should make him happy, and Merlin blushed or it was just a trick of the fire.

"No," he said hastily, "it's just... it's magic? Aren't you going to—" He made a vague gesture with his hand as if to imitate slashing motion.

For a moment Arthur considered this. "Did it use magic?"

Merlin shook his head. "No," he said.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "It didn't even use magic and it still got you into the lake? What were you doing, Merlin? Leaning over it?" He could clearly imagine him leaning over the lake to peer into the water and then losing his balance. "I'm starting to doubt there even was a water spirit."

Merlin frowned. "That's not important," he said, his voice taking on that petulant tone that let Arthur know he was embarrassed and seconds away from sulking.

Magnanimously Arthur let this chance to tease him slide. He was too good for Merlin, really, and the simpleton didn't even know. "Did it try to harm anyone?" He smirked. "Well, aside from trying to drown you but I consider that more of a service to the kingdom."

Merlin smacked him, a glimpse of pale thigh flashing when he moved, and then shook his head.

"Did it threaten anyone or the crown?"

"No."

"In that case, I don't see how it's any of my business."

Merlin clenched the blanket in his fingers, his eyebrows still furrowed. Arthur wanted to tell him to stop; clearly thinking was an arduous task for him. They all had their talents, and thinking wasn't one of Merlin's. "But I thought..." Merlin said, each word picked with care, and then he trailed off. He ducked his head down, picking at the fabric of the blanket.

Arthur sighed. "Look, Merlin, it's the _use_ of magic that is illegal, not the simple possession of it," he said, and emphasised his words with a meaningful look. "Gaius used to practise magic," he pointed out, almost in a challenge, in case Merlin had somehow missed this detail about his mentor and waited for him to slowly nod. "As for magical creatures, I'm sure you've noticed that most of them _attack_ people. I'm not going to kill something that hasn't even done anything."

Merlin looked stricken for a moment and Arthur went on before he could prattle whatever sappy, apologetic nonsense that was undoubtedly forthcoming. He smirked. "Aside from trying to drown you, that is."

Sappy moment derailed, Merlin smacked him instead and Arthur barked out a laugh.

He prepared broth from yesterday's game, and made sure Merlin's bowl had plenty of meat in it. Arthur didn't understand how the idiot managed to be too thin because he'd seen Merlin stuff his face like a pig on several occasions when he thought Arthur didn't see.

They ate in silence. The blanket slipped off of Merlin's shoulders every now and then, and Arthur's gaze kept wandering back to him, to the long curve of his neck, the sharp arc of his collarbone. The rigid tremors had abated, and Arthur was glad.

The brushes of sunlight faded, and the sky was dyed in ink, the stars blinking forth one at a time. Arthur made sure Merlin laid down close to the fire, and then settled down behind him because nights in the mountains were cold. Arthur curled his arm around his waist, ignoring how rigid Merlin was, and arranged the second blanket around them both.

Arthur counted Merlin's breaths, the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly the tension thawed out of him and he relaxed against Arthur.

"Merlin," Arthur said, in the hushed tones of a confession, his lips ghosting over the nape of his neck. "There is only so much I can do for you."

For a long moment Merlin was quiet, and then he nodded with a cautious jerk of his head and didn't probe him for explanations. Arthur sighed, his breath brushing the ends of his hair, and inched closer against him. He closed his eyes, breathed in his scent, and hoped Merlin had understood because this was as far as Arthur was allowed to go.

It was enough, he assured himself.

It had to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
